[Sober Living] Cannot Distract It

Even while watching a movie, it’s always there. The noise of self-doubt echoes louder than most lines in movies, the self-loathing permeates into every conversation, and what self-assurance is mucked by an overwhelming sense of artificiality. Neon colors can’t cover it. There are moments when I can get distracted from the past or future and focus on something nice, but otherwise, it’s a constant that I cannot escape from. Let’s explore that darkness at length.

I’m publishing this a month late, so bear with that context.

For the past five days, I’ve been suffering through thoughts surrounding some interaction I had that left me feeling drained. I should have more resilience against personability than this. It shouldn’t pierce so deep. And yet waking up day after day to the same antagonistic thoughts led me to explore my thoughts. A hiatus? I suppose that if it must, it must, and if so, then this will be the best possible route. When this publishes, the answer to this conundrum will be solved. It’s a curious one, this. I’m writing into a far-flung future.

Where will I be at that point?

Tomorrow I will focus some effort on editing and collecting more stuff to move. I’ve borrowed too many days of not doing this to where the echoes of the need to move are ringing louder and louder. What to keep and what to get rid of are no longer just amusing asides. I need to actually get to it now. Watching Tron: Legacy this evening was more of a trying exercise than I would like. I couldn’t shut off my brain, and not just to analyzing the details of the movie, but to everything surrounding me. The aforementioned events. The move. My life in the future.

Where will I move?

I can probably condense most of my stuff down without selling anything I would later regret, but for right now, so much of it is hoarded that I couldn’t even tell you from memory what is where and when the last time I appreciated half of it. That’s always weighed on my mind. What a waste. Some of these items once held value to me but now that I own them are just objects for occasional appreciation. Nothing really worth hanging onto, however, if it’s the difference between a simple transition from one location to another and not.

This stuff used to define me.

I felt like the more stuff I owned, the more value I had. I never really felt happy with any of this stuff. There’s a family photo with me and my childhood stuffed animal, Baby Bear, where I feature it prominently. It’s an object that I treasured then and still do. Now, most of the stuff around me as I sit writing mean little or nothing to me, especially in comparison to that, so why should I hang onto it?

These ornaments of a past me weigh me down.

I’ve avoided much of this move out of regret.

There is a certain regret in not having fully experienced an object. To buy a cheap VHS tape years ago but to have never seen it? If I don’t watch movies often, what’s the point of hanging onto them? How about the assorted Disney VHS tapes that were gifted to me at the point in time where I wasn’t watching them anymore? That was a waste that I surely would like to rectify, and even so, their value now is less in me watching them, and more in the selling process for a meager amount. Perhaps combined, this stuff that weighs me down has a collective value worth the time and effort to parse through.

That effort could be better spent elsewhere.

I don’t really need the money in that regard, anyways. In some videogames like Animal Crossing or Harvest Moon, there is the goal of purchasing a house and dumping all your money into maintaining it. It’s a virtual abstraction of the real thing: to purchase a house with a lot of your own and to maintain it as you see fit.

Vestiges of that vision are still here.

I don’t want to go into the details yet, but I imagine I must in order to purge this feeling of regret that haunts me, and I suppose that with this buffer of time, I can always shelve this for another few months. In fact, let me schedule this to publish far enough into the future where these details might not matter.

One year from now…

To my future audience: hopefully, I was able to close the books on this bad business I found myself within. Hopefully, that didn’t mean straining that which should not be strained, but if so, at least it will be reclaiming independence, right?

I’m getting too far out now.

During the movie, my thoughts raced between the collections and things I actually wanted. I will need to move a few times, but I would like to eventually move into a place where I can store all of the stuff I’ve always wanted – but why do I want all this stuff? What is the point to all of that?

Watching this movie is proof of that.

I am pushing myself too hard to work too much. I can’t take a break. I can’t slow down. Even watching this movie was a chore, because all throughout, my mind could not disengage from reality, the stresses I’m dealing with right now, my former stresses, and my future stresses. This wasn’t the reality I’d signed up for, but it’s the one that I bang my way through.

It shouldn’t be this bad.

I should be able to live a comfortable life where the only stress I have to encounter is writing a decently-coherent story that might comment on some former stress, but in a sense is a liberating factor in me coming to terms with the events as they unfolded.

Or I should be able to get myself into playful trouble.

All the better for writing material, right?

Why, then, can I not allow myself some guilt-free time?

Is it because we are wired to be at persistent attention? If we let our guards down too much, will the predators out there attack? How come others can let their guards down? When I do, predators strike, and not all of them are on the outside. I hate this. I hate this feeling of being chased by everything. Why can’t I enjoy the moment as well?

Why am I always hurt?

I can’t unwind. I can’t relax for too long.

I can’t get drunk. I can’t get high.

Maybe it’s not such a big deal anymore?

Who really cares about all that anyways?

I noticed a change in my personality after I took Adderall. I stopped caring about stuff as much, similar to when I was on Ativan. I really enjoy that, for the most part, except the withdrawals are the same as when I’d need alcohol.

I hate being on like this.

I did it to myself.

Before and during the movie, I drank 1.5 liters of coffee.

The first time I took Adderall was amazing. The second time, not so much. Then after that, it’s been just a new normal. At some point, I figured that Adderall was like coffee to me, so when I can’t have Adderall, I just drink more coffee. Here it’s past 10 PM and I’m wired. I’m hoping that through this writing process, I find myself fatigued enough to go to sleep, but we’ll see how many more thousand words that will take.

I gambled with Adderall there.

I have an opportunity to try Xanax. So much for living a sober life, huh?

I don’t like this situation I’m in, both with needing to move, the work I’m in, and the other work I’m participating in. I hate that my work with Blah Blah could be disrupted because one person can’t behave politely.

I hate that I’ve allowed this to affect me.

I hate that this is how it’s been for the past few years. I’ve ended all my jobs either at their completion of contract time or because of a manager that rubbed me the wrong way, unless it was my health that was affected. Why can’t I have more resilience? Why do I care so much about what other people think?

Maybe having more independence of property will help?

To be in my own apartment with a lease in my own name might help, but even then, I am still under the control of others. If I were to purchase a house, it would be the same. We are always owned by other people, concepts, or organizations. There is no true freedom.

Unless it’s right now.

My mind shifted there with the caffeine still kicking in. My mind is in a place right now where the words just type out of my brain and there is no barrier. This is a nice sensation to have and I favor this over many other types of situations because the noise in the background is silent. There are no thoughts on insecurity over how I handled a situation there or what I said that might be offensive.

Maybe I should be more like that guy?

Sociopathic tendencies must be nice. Not caring what other people think to such a degree that I could callously throw out passive aggressive statements and to create a warpath in my wake that others just have to accept? That must be a fine life to live. To care about others is a curse. Sometimes. Most of the time. I want to just do my own thing in life. I want to just write. I don’t care about the money. I don’t care about fame. I just look at everything I do as succeeding in this goal of writing “The Story.”

They need their story told.

Scenes from their story haunt me daily. Today, I daydreamed of the scene where Trishna and John first meet in person. They just awoke from “The Scene” and the first thing they do is actually what they always do – say the passcode. The passcode might be something about Pollyanna. It’s a shared secret that John starts because he is constantly in a state of being vulnerable with his computer and his laptop. He can’t trust anyone around him.

Until he is propelled out of that situation.

Then once they exchange the passcode, they sit and chat until someone checks in on them. In this version of the scene, they are in the doctor’s house. They might still have Trishna’s wheelchair in the car, so they might instead have a medical wheelchair.

I wonder what will happen after I publish “The Story?”

Will these visions still haunt me? They are nice. I like these tenants. They’re better than the more aggressive tenants I have in my mind palace. They’ve been the constant that’s pushed me in a direction that should be most comfortable for me.

I want to believe in their world.

A world where everything is impure, terrible, and horrible, yet within their sphere, everything will be fine. They will argue and disagree, but it will never be terrible enough to tear them apart. My life has been a constant exposure to conflict and pain in that regard. Every person that I’ve ever felt attached to in some way has betrayed me to some degree. Or maybe it’s that I placed too much trust in others? It’s also not that bad.

I’m just tired of all this bullshit.

Why can’t life be simpler? To have a nice, quiet life? Where these stress demons don’t rattle this cage so loudly?

It’s all a pipedream in many senses.

I want to have a more ideal environment than I’m in.

Yet all I see is that there will be pain in any regard.

People are painful.

Maybe that’s why we choose escapism?

We play videogames, watch movies, and consume stories of all sorts to escape from this sense of universal pain and ennui that happens when we allow others into our lives, and yet, through that pain, we also have the pleasure of dealing with these people as well. We have to accept each other’s flaws and quirks in order to interact with them, and most people are fine with how we are, I guess.

Why do we want to mould others to be as we want them to be?

Is it because it’s easier when others act in ways that are predictable? I don’t want people to hurt me, so does that mean I have to force people to act in ways where they won’t? Can I afford the ability to hurt others in exchange? I’m a shitty person, so I guess it would be nice to have that level of control over people – to feel as though I am better than others – but why? And at what expense does that require?

Watching pornography leads to some insight.

The pornography that might be the most popular, if not just for me but for others as well, are the ones with idealized people in bizarre situations. Here, some throw themselves at others, either with or without caution, and the result is always fun and perfect.

Perfection is an illusion, though!

All there is is just that gnawing sense of imperfection. It could be better, but it won’t be, so why fight it? Because there’s the sense that it can be better in a certain regard that can make us feel much more happy…

The trick might just be to accept things as they are and better what you can, rather than worry about people acting in ways that best suit you, situations best serve you and what not. Most of my writings over the past few years have been comments on what I’ve experienced, or interpretations on how they could have been better or worse.

I idealize the autonomous selves.

Those who have broken free from the cages I’ve wrangled with since I first started this website.

Hopefully in one year’s time, I will have freed myself from this cage too, living a life more free than today, where most of today was spent under the guise of duty or surrounded by the guilts of past intentions.

Maybe I will find myself in a new place where I can be free.

Or at least, somewhere better than this evening?

That’s not to say it’s entirely bad right now, just that it could be much better. I could be in a situation where I wouldn’t have to worry what other people think. I could be free to do the work I want to do without the hassle of approvals and being polite for the sake of it. I am in many ways more shackled than most, and in other ways, more free than most.

Maybe in one year, I can have an evening where I won’t need to distract myself?

Quotes: None.
Sources: My personal experiences.
Inspirations: After wrapping up the movie, I felt really bad for some reason, and wanted to explore that more fully.
Related: Other Sober Living entries.
Picture: Screenshot of WordPress, inverted.
Written On: October 13th [90 minutes]
Last Edited: No further edits.
My big goal is writing. My most important goal is writing "The Story." All other goals should work toward that central goal. My proudest moment is the most recent time I overcame some fear, which should have been today. I'm a better zombie than I was yesterday. I'm not better than you and you're not better than me. Let's strive to be better every day.